


Choose your destiny

by candelina



Series: a witcher’s life between destiny and choices [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Destiny, Feelings, Fix-It, Fluff, Geraskier, Hopeful Ending, Jaskier deserved better, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, What-If, geralt struggles with his emotions, of course he has them, so I'll give it to him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:47:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25148686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candelina/pseuds/candelina
Summary: There are only two possibilities, he decides. Either he has found a large mirror in the middle of nowhere, or he has accidentally drunk a weird potion that’s making him have an odd dream.“What the fuck?” Geralt,the other Geralt, narrows his eyes and tilts his head slightly.No mirror then. He really doesn’t want to consider that there is a third possibility, because it’d be absurd, not to mention absolutely improbable and, really, this can’t be so messed up–“Geralt, darling, is everything all right?”His heart skips a bit the moment he hears that voice. Then, he sees him.Jaskier has just gone to stand next to the other Geralt – very close – and he touches his arm gently, as if Geralt didn’t yell at him awful, regrettable things just a few weeks ago. His blue eyes widen when he notices who’s standing in front of him and the one who looks exactly like Geralt.All Geralt can think of is – to quote his own self –what the fuck.*Or*Geralt finds himself in another universe and is faced with the consequences of what could have happened if he had said “yes” when Jaskier suggested they went to the coast.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: a witcher’s life between destiny and choices [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863424
Comments: 53
Kudos: 406





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just couldn't get this idea out of my head, so here you go.
> 
> Also, English is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistake.

***

The first thing his mind registers is that the ground underneath him is considerably different from the moist grass and dirt where he fell asleep last night. _Sand_.

Why would there be sand in the middle of the forest?

Then, he hears the smooth sound of waves meeting the shore. _Sea_.

Something’s wrong. He doesn’t remember having gone anywhere near the coast and yet, here he is. 

Suddenly, Geralt feels a presence getting closer and quickly stands up. He turns around to see who’s there, maybe a sorceress or someone who thought they could play some sort of stupid game with him, but he freezes on the spot.

Right there, in front of him, there’s… _himself_. 

Now, as long as Geralt knows, he doesn’t have a twin and even if he had, he couldn’t look the same as him in every single detail. He’s even wearing a medallion which doesn’t seem fake, though Geralt knows how good dopplers are at copying everything when they transform. But something feels so very wrong about this one. Why would a doppler be here on a beach with the very person he has taken on the form of, rather than going around pretending to be Geralt to get whatever he thought he could? It doesn’t make sense.

Geralt notices that neither of them has moved an inch yet. They’re just observing each other carefully.

There are only two possibilities, he decides. Either he has found a large mirror in the middle of nowhere, or he has accidentally drunk a weird potion that’s making him have an odd dream.

“What the fuck?” Geralt, _the other Geralt_ , narrows his eyes and tilts his head slightly.

No mirror then. He really doesn’t want to consider that there is a third possibility, because it’d be absurd, not to mention absolutely improbable and, really, this can’t be so messed up–

“Geralt, darling, is everything all right?”

His heart skips a bit the moment he hears that voice. Then, he sees him.

Jaskier has just gone to stand next to the other Geralt – very close – and he touches his arm gently, as if Geralt didn’t yell at him awful, regrettable things just a few weeks ago. His blue eyes widen when he notices who’s standing in front of him and the one who looks exactly like Geralt.

All Geralt can think of is – to quote his own self – _what the fuck_.

There is a long moment in which no one dares to talk. Of course, then it’s Jaskier who breaks the heavy silence.

“Is it… a doppler?” he asks to the Geralt standing by his side.

His companion doesn’t look at him, but neither does he try to remove the bard’s hand which is still resting on his arm as if it belonged there. “Hm. Could be.” He says, but he sounds uncertain.

Geralt is just slightly relieved to see that he’s not the only one who doesn’t know what to do with this situation. Then, he realizes that if this is what he thinks it is, it’s not so strange that he and this witcher who looks exactly like him think in the same way. After all, if his guess is correct, they are… _the same person_.

A similar thought must have occurred to his other self because his golden eyes suddenly go wide at the same time Geralt’s do.

“Could you please stop the staring contest for a second? I don’t know about you witchers, but sometimes people need _words_ to understand what’s going on!” Jaskier, who definitely _is_ Jaskier, makes an exaggerated gesture with his arms as his confused gaze shifts between one Geralt and the other.

The one standing next to him looks vaguely amused by his reaction. Geralt doesn’t know what to make of that.

“Did you piss off a witch or something?”

Geralt is surprised to hear his other self speaking to him. He knows why he’s asking that, but he honestly has no idea what to reply. “Hmm.”

The other Geralt dares to roll his eyes. Then, he turns to Jaskier. “You’re right. I’ll admit it’s a bit irritating.”

“See? I’ve told you a thousand times! You need to learn to _speak_ , Geralt.” Jaskier pokes the witcher’s chest with his finger but then he smiles at him softly.

And Geralt… Geralt smiles back and _chuckles_. He fucking _chuckles_.

Geralt watches, incredulous, and thinks that he hasn’t heard himself making such a sound in a very long time. He wasn’t even sure he could still do it.  
While he’s lost in his thoughts, something must be going on across him on the shore because suddenly there’s a shocked expression on Jaskier’s face.

“ _Another universe_?!” he exclaims.

His other self nods at him and then turns to Geralt himself. “It’s the only explanation.”

Geralt knows he’s right, but the thought of having been teleported to another universe without being aware of it is fucking humiliating.

“So, he… is you?” the bard asks slowly, trying to process the information.

The other witcher nods again.

Jaskier looks away from him and stares at Geralt instead. His cornflower blue eyes – that Geralt won’t admit he has missed – now seem to penetrate him and not for the first time in the past few miserable weeks, his heart fills with guilt.

“Well, this is… _a lot_ to take in so, I suggest we get ourselves comfortable at least, yes?” Jaskier gestures towards somewhere behind him where there are an abandoned wooden dock and a small house. “Come on.” He turns around and starts walking, leaving no room for argument.

Geralt hasn’t moved yet. He looks at his other self and raises his brows, but the other simply shrugs and turns to follow the bard. It takes him only a few steps to go walk next to him and much to Geralt’s shock, as soon as he reaches him, the witcher takes Jaskier’s hand in his own. And not only the bard doesn’t flinch, but he interlocks their fingers together and all at once Geralt is witnessing his other self walking on the beach on a peaceful morning with Jaskier and _they are holding hands_ –

If there’s still a chance that this is just a dream, Geralt desperately wants to wake up.

***

Dream or not, Geralt finds himself following the Geralt and Jaskier from this universe into the house at the end of the old dock. It’s larger than it looks from outside and it’s cosy. There are a table, a few chairs, a spot that’s meant to cook next to the window and there’s also a narrow corridor that probably leads to the bathroom and another room. It feels like the perfect place someone would call home.

“Please, sit down and… make yourself at home. I’ll get you some water. Have you eaten yet? Would you like some bread as well?”

It takes Geralt a moment to realize that Jaskier is talking to him. “Water.” He says and it’s more a reflex than anything else.

The bard nods and goes to fetch what he promised, leaving Geralt standing there, unsure about what to do. 

His other self must notice his awkwardness – of course he does – because he heads to the table and sits there before gesturing Geralt to do the same. He moves then and sits on a chair in front of the other, but neither of them speaks. Somehow, that’s even more awkward. Fortunately, it doesn’t last long because Jaskier comes back quickly with a glass of water.

He offers it to Geralt, flashing a warm smile. “I see you’re having quite the conversation here.” He says, not without any sarcasm, and he leans against the table, even though there are other chairs available. “So, I understand you’re the same person, as much absurd as it sounds, but let’s leave that for now. What I want to ask is… how did you end up here?”

Geralt drinks the water and puts the glass down as he clears his throat. “If I knew, do you think I’d still be in this universe?”

“Point. But, how do you plan to go back then?”

Geralt tries to glare at him. He really does. But it’s hard when Jaskier’s looking at him with that soft gaze filled with concern. Concern for a Geralt who’s not even from his universe. “I don’t know.”

Jaskier bends slightly closer to him, his hand reaches across the table and almost touches his where he’s still holding the glass. “We’ll help you.”

He says it with so much sincerity that it really makes Geralt believe they will find a way.

The other Geralt has been quiet the whole time, watching him with curiosity and a hint of something in his eyes that he can’t place.

“You can stay with us for now, of course.” Jaskier continues and then turns to his companion from this universe. “We’ll just need to get more fish for lunch. What Igor and Berta gave us this morning won’t be enough for three.”

The other witcher nods. “I’ll go.” He says as he stands up, but before moving his feet he glances at Geralt. “Come with me.”

It’s not like Geralt has anything else to do and staying here won’t certainly help him figure out how to go back. Besides, if he must be completely honest with himself, being alone with Jaskier isn’t something he wants to do right now. So, he stands from the chair and heads for the door, but despite himself he hears something before making it out of the house.

“Thank you, darling.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt quickly walks out and tries to tell himself that the sound he catches after that isn’t the sound of lips against lips. It _isn’t_.

***

The thing is, Geralt knows he should say something. At least, he should ask if there’s someone in the village – which he can see on the other side of the shore – maybe a witch, who can help him. But that would mean speaking to this witcher who looks, thinks, talks (or, rather, doesn’t) and acts exactly like him, who literally _is_ him; and yet, there’s this strange, unfamiliar aura around him that tells Geralt they are nothing alike. This feeling grows even stronger when it’s the other who starts talking, while they’re out on the dock, waiting to catch some fish with a fishing rod.

“Did yours ask you to go to the coast?”

The question catches Geralt off guard and he looks at his other self with a deep frown on his face. “What?”

The other Geralt seems to understand more with that reaction than he would have with an actual answer. “And you said no.”

He says it with so much conviction like there’s no doubt about it. This time, Geralt turns away without even considering to reply. This is just a pointless conversation that he most definitely doesn’t want to have. Especially with himself.

Apparently, that’s not enough to stop the other, who goes on. “When he asked me, I wanted to tell him that he was an idiot, that he should stop talking about such ridiculous things. But I didn’t.” The witcher pauses. He’s looking ahead, towards the horizon, but his gaze is unfocused as if his mind was somewhere else. “I didn’t say anything. I just looked at him and…”

“I don’t care.” Geralt interrupts him. He doesn’t need to know what happened in this universe. He doesn’t need to know why this version of himself looks as happy as he ever remembers being. He’s not him. “You and I might be both Geralt of Rivia, but we’re from different universes. We’re not the same.”

“No. You’re right.” The other witcher agrees and, for the first time since Geralt arrived here, his expression hardens and he lets out a growl. “I had the guts to do what you’re still avoiding.”

That sparks something inside him and before he knows it, Geralt is grabbing his other self by the collar of his black shirt and he snaps at him. “There’s nothing to avoid.”

 _I’ve ruined everything before it could become something._ His traitorous mind recalls. Or perhaps it’s just the guilt talking. Fuck, dealing with yourself is much more stressful than expected.

The other Geralt, instead, has gone back to being calm and silently observing him. That’s when they hear the fishing rod flex towards the water.

“Looks like we got a bite.”

***

“Isn’t there anyone we know around here who could help?” The bard asks while the three of them are sitting around the table, eating their lunch. The fish they have caught is much better than anything Geralt had in the past few weeks.

“No.” His other self replies. “We should go to another village. See if we can find a sorceress.”

It’s not a great plan, but at least it’s a plan and Geralt doesn’t have many other options. The sooner he gets out of here the better. “I’ll leave tomorrow.”

“What? No! You can’t!”

The two Geralts turn to Jaskier, both of them raising a brow at him.

“We promised to help you and we will.” He says with a determination that Geralt really can’t explain. “Besides, this is not your universe. What if there’s something much different from yours that you don’t know? It might be dangerous to travel by yourself.”

Geralt wants to point out that he’s a witcher who has travelled alone for a long time and survived a thousand more perils than a normal person would, but instead what comes out of his mouth is, “And what do you suggest I do? Bring you along?”

That gives the bard pause. A series of unclear emotions passes through his face, while Geralt mentally curses his own tongue. Then, Jaskier seems to light up and there’s a certain gleam in his eyes like he has just come up with a brilliant idea. “We’ll go to the village together! I perform at the local tavern almost every night. They have the least shitty ale I’ve ever tried in all those years on the road and the food is really delicious, let me tell you. Am I right, Geralt?” 

He turns to the other witcher, who has been watching them quietly as always, but when the bard addresses him his neutral expression becomes somewhat amused and his lips curve into a tiny smile as he nods. “Hmm.”

“Exactly. And it’s the perfect chance to ask around if anyone knows where we can find a witch. People come and go from town to town everyday, someone must know the right place to go.”

As much as it pains Geralt to admit it, that’s not a terrible idea. He does need to get some useful information before leaving. Apparently, his silence is interpreted in a positive way because now Jaskier is grinning like an idiot and he’s beautiful when he smiles at Geralt and– oh. When was the last time Geralt saw the bard all happy and smiling? Why does he even have to think about that? Traitorous mind.

“Great! Tonight, then. It’s settled.”

Jaskier’s enthusiasm is almost contagious and despite himself Geralt knows that neither he nor his other self want to spoil it. But there’s still a small issue to consider which Geralt can’t help pointing out. “Won’t the villagers be slightly shocked to see two identical witchers suddenly appear in their tavern?”

“That won’t be a problem.” The bard says without hesitation. “People here are very friendly and they know us very well. We can tell them that you two are twins.” He hasn’t stopped smiling yet, except now there’s a slight frown on his face and as soon as he finishes to speak the last sentence he turns to the other Geralt. “Maybe you can at least wear something different, though. How about that white shirt I bought you last week?”

Jaskier did… what now? Geralt wants to snort, but he manages not to. Did he really buy a _white shirt_ for him? Well, not exactly _him_ , but the point is that’s just absurd anyway, there’s no universe in which Geralt would ever accept clothes from Jaskier _again_.

“Hm. All right, little lark.”

Geralt’s eyes widen and he almost, _almost_ gapes. What has he just heard? Not only his other self agreed to Jaskier’s request without a second thought, but he also called him _little lark_. And it didn’t even sound like an insult or a joke, it sounded like something endearing, like a… a pet name. Geralt doesn’t know what to do with that. He doesn’t know what to think. He can only stare, completely powerless, as the other Geralt wraps an arm around Jaskier’s shoulder and leans closer to kiss his cheek.

Then, the bard’s smile brightens like the Sun and Geralt has to look away, pretending to focus on the empty plate in front of him rather than on the odd twist in his stomach.

***

You may think that after being thrown into another universe without permission and meeting another version of yourself nothing else can surprise you. As it turns out, that is not Geralt’s case. He has already been shocked more than once today (and probably in more ways than an average person’s mental sanity can take), but the day is still long.

It all starts when they arrive at the village, which is a 15-minute walk from the house. Geralt’s instinct tells him that he should brace himself for suspicious stares, disgusted expressions, people keeping themselves at a certain distance, mothers hiding their children in their homes… you know, the usual. Sure, things got better after Jaskier began to sing his songs which offered a new perspective about witchers. But the world is cruel and it takes more than some nice music to change it. So, maybe people won’t scream and run away when they see him, but he still expects them to be cautious. Yet, today nothing he has expected happened so far.

As soon as someone spots them, people start waving at Jaskier and even at the other Geralt. They greet them, approach them and ask them about their day, about the fish they caught and if they’re going to accept some bread and cheese in exchange for it. People also ask about Geralt and as agreed Jaskier tells everyone he’s the other Geralt’s twin who came to visit. And they look at him and… smile. They smile in a way that’s not forced, it’s polite and genuine. Geralt also notices that although it’s Jaskier who does all the talking and keeps most of the conversations – thank the Gods some things never change – people always acknowledge his other self with a nod or a smile, sometimes even with a pat on the back. The witcher, for his part, looks like he feels a bit awkward, but he gives a nod and a light smile in response to everyone.

It’s only later in the evening, as they make their way to the tavern, that Jaskier offers him some kind of explanation about people’s behaviour here. 

“Geralt is a real hero for them.”

“Hm.”

“Oh, stop it, you know it’s true. You defeated that giant octopus with only two or three strikes of your sword and now people don’t have to worry about having their houses destroyed or not finding enough fish in the sea.” Jaskier makes a large gesture with his arm towards the beach and then turns to Geralt. “You can listen to the whole story tonight when I’m going to sing the song I wrote about it. People love it. I think it’s one of their favourites.”

Of course the bard wrote a song about Geralt’s adventure, especially if it involves slaying monsters and become popular among some villagers. Suddenly, Geralt finds himself wondering if Jaskier will ever play songs about him again in his universe. He wouldn’t blame the bard if he didn’t, which is very likely.

As they walk into the tavern, people have similar reactions to those on the streets. Some of them seem even delighted to see his other self and Jaskier.

“Are you going to sing for us tonight, bard?”

“Have you finished that latest song yet? I want to hear it!”

“We already have a couple of requests for you!”

The last man who spoke has just emerged from the kitchen and looks like the owner of the place. Next to him comes a middle-aged woman (probably his wife), who glares at the old man and smacks his arm. “Stop being so selfish, you idiot! Let the boys eat and drink in peace. Can’t you see that they have a guest?”

Jaskier walks closer and gives them a charming smile. “Berta, my lovely lady, please, don’t be too mean to your Igor. I’ll be happy to accept every request he has for tonight’s performance.”

The woman – Berta, apparently – softens immediately. “My dear Jaskier, you’re too kind. Now come and sit down, boys.”

“Thank you.”

Berta leads the three of them to a table, while the old man – Igor – grumbles to himself as he returns to the kitchen. “So,” she starts, as soon as they sat, “who’s the handsome new boy here?”

Geralt blinks, unsure whether he has heard well. _Handsome_ and _boy_ usually aren’t the words people use to describe him.

“He’s Geralt’s twin, Norbert.” Jaskier answers promptly. “He arrived this morning to visit us and is currently looking for someone who can help him with a… peculiar issue.”

“Oh. Can I ask what kind of issue it is?”

“The kind that requires a magic hand. You wouldn’t happen to know, by any chance, where we can find a sorceress?”

Berta doesn’t seem surprised by the question. “I’m afraid not, dear. I’ve never left this village since I got married to that grumpy man.” She tilts her head towards the kitchen with a grimace, then she leans closer to whisper. “But I hear a lot of rumours in this tavern. I’ll let you know if I find out something useful.”

“Thank you so much, my lady.”

“Don’t mention it.” Berta touches Jaskier’s shoulder with an affectionate gesture and turns to the two witchers, flashing them a sweet smile. “I’ll bring you all some ale while you wait for the food.”

As soon as she turns around to walk to the bar, Geralt looks at Jaskier. “‘Norbert’?”

The bard simply shrugs. “It’s not like I could tell her that you have the same name. It would’ve been a bit strange.”

Geralt sighs and leans back. This whole experience is proving to be really exhausting. He could use some alcohol right now. For once, his wish is granted when Berta soon returns with three mugs of ale as promised. She stays a bit longer to talk with Jaskier about fishing, dinners, local gossip and he occasionally says something which makes her laugh. They also shoot a glance or two at Geralt and his other self.

The food is served shortly after. Geralt has to admit that Jaskier was right about it. It’s a simple meal – just stew and some bread – but it’s not bad at all and the ale was fine too.

It doesn’t take long for Jaskier to finish his dinner and as soon as he does, he grabs his lute and starts to pinch its strings.

The chatter around them slowly stops and almost everyone turns to their table. Jaskier grins at them as he stands and begins to sing. People seem to recognise the song immediately because they start to clap their hands and hum it along. Geralt doesn’t know it, but he only has to listen to the lyrics to understand that it’s the song Jaskier mentioned earlier, the one about the octopus terrorizing the village and the other Geralt’s success in killing it and becoming a hero. Before he finishes to sing the last line, Jaskier turns to them and winks at his other self, who has to hide an embarrassed grin behind his mug. Geralt doesn’t feel jealous at all, nor does he miss that kind of dance between him and the bard. He _doesn’t_. The unsettling feeling in his stomach is clearly due to the absurd situation he has found himself in.

He doesn’t want to order too much ale since he’s not the one paying for it (he only had a few coins with him when he woke up in this universe), but he feels like he does need to drink. Watching Jaskier sing – so passionately and joyfully and, _gods_ , he also looks so happy and young and beautiful – only serves to remind him about the last time he saw him. There’s an unbelievable contrast between the wonderful smile the bard wears right now and the expression of hurt on Jaskier’s face from his own universe. And yet, they’re technically the same person. The only thing that made a significant difference in their lives is the way Geralt reacted to their offer to go to the coast. Jaskier could’ve been happy in his universe too, if only Geralt hadn’t… 

_I had the guts to do what you’re still avoiding_.

If only Geralt hadn’t been such a _coward_.

His grip on the mug tightens, threatening to break it. Geralt grits his teeth and stands abruptly from his seat. He knows his other self is giving him a warning look, but he ignores it and leaves the tavern as fast as well as quietly as possible because he doesn’t want to disturb Jaskier’s performance. Some people notice him anyway and also the bard does, of course. Geralt can feel his eyes on his back as he walks out of the place. He ignores that, too.

***


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am.
> 
> I'd like to thank you all for your precious support! I loved reading your comments and some of you even gave me interesting ideas for this chapter!
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.

***

Geralt hates destiny. He hates the whole concept of it. The world doesn’t make sense and everyone is in this chaos alone. They should just learn to deal with it. But, no. No, they’d rather believe in this invisible force that leads them in the right direction one way or another, because of course this is all _meant to be_.

Perhaps, it’s that very same invisible force which has led him here at the edge of this abandoned dock in a universe that is not his. Geralt has sat down on one of the wooden boards, feeling exhausted rather than angry. He looks at the sea and the sparkles of the first stars in the waves. 

He hears him as soon as his foot touches the first board of the dock. But he doesn’t move.

He doesn’t move, not even when he quietly sits next to him. Neither of them looks at the other and they both remain silent for a long time. Then, Geralt hears a soft snort.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I was just wondering if all witchers have the habit of going to the edge of docks when they’re upset or if this is just a Geralt thing.”

“Hm.” Geralt doesn’t ask what Jaskier means by that. He can’t even look at him yet. “Performance’s over?”

“For tonight.”

Strangely enough, he doesn’t add anything else. Geralt doesn’t sense his other self anywhere near them and wonders why Jaskier came to look for him, of all people. Geralt doesn’t deserve him, not in this nor in his universe.

“Geralt, I…”

“Don’t.” He interrupts him quickly in a harsher tone than he would’ve liked. “Don’t ask.”

“Fine. I won’t ask you to tell me about your universe or about your Jaskier.”

Something clenches painfully inside Geralt’s chest.

_Your Jaskier_.

“He’s not mine.” He says, almost in a whisper.

“And that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

Geralt has to take a deep breath to try and calm down his heartbeat, which has weirdly increased. But then Jaskier’s next words reach him and Geralt isn’t sure if his mind can process them.

“If he really is me, then I think you have nothing to worry about. His heart is already yours.” 

The bard’s tone is soft, sincere and Geralt can picture the kind smile that’s probably spread on his face right now, even though he keeps his gaze towards the sea. Again, he has trouble finding a way to reply. “I– he’s not– I’m a witcher, I shouldn’t…”

“Oh, no, don’t try to give me any of that nonsense about witchers’s lack of ability to feel emotions. You know there’s nothing further from the truth and I know it, too. I’ve seen you cry.”

That finally makes Geralt turn to look at him, though he narrows his eyes suspiciously. “I’ve never cried.”

“You did. Right here, on this dock.”

Geralt’s frown deepens. “That wasn’t me.”

The bard holds his gaze and smiles again, knowingly. “From what I could see, you and my Geralt are perfectly identical, which means that if he can cry… you can, too.”

Geralt isn’t sure what shocks him more: the knowledge that his other self from this universe has let someone see him in such a vulnerable moment of his life, or the fact that his heart suddenly felt like jumping out of his chest the instant he heard Jaskier’s voice say… _my Geralt_.

Jaskier – who Geralt has to remember isn’t the one from his universe – must interpret his silence as a sign to keep talking and, for once in his life, Geralt is really grateful for it. That way, he can focus on something else other than his own confusing thoughts.

“It happened one night, a few days ago.” He starts, letting his storyteller self emerge. “We had invited Igor and Berta to have dinner at our house. Now, what you need to know is that Igor and Berta have a son, maybe you saw him today at the tavern. Tall guy with short, dark, curly hair and brown eyes? Anyway, they expect him to take over the business of the tavern when they won’t be around anymore or will be too old to help. So, since last year, once a week they leave the tavern completely in his hands while they either stay at home or visit some friends. They told me he’s been learning a lot in this way and Igor says it’s important to entrust him with this, though Berta was a bit nervous at the beginning. Someone in the village says he fancies one of the barmaids and he’s probably going to marry her.”

Geralt doesn’t get why the information is relevant, but he gives the bard a small nod to let him know he’s listening.

“And this is why Igor and Berta were at our house instead of the tavern that night. We were eating the fish Geralt had caught in the afternoon with some fishermen. They love him because thanks to his strength and agility he manages to capture the largest fish and, oh, you had to see their faces when he caught a shark with his bare hands! It was priceless!”

As he talks, Jaskier makes unnecessarily wide gestures with his hands and Geralt won’t ever admit that he finds it kind of endearing, or that his chest feels warm when the bard speaks of him so proudly. It’d be all perfect if it wasn’t for that nostalgic feeling which is slowly and mercilessly filling him up.

“So, it was a nice, ordinary night for us. You know, it wasn’t even the first time we had someone over. Zofia, who’s a very skilled seamstress, and her wife were the first to visit us here the day after Geralt killed the monster and they stayed for lunch. Lovely ladies. So, there was nothing new about that night. I even remember Geralt talking with Igor about something. I think they became sort of friends, actually.”

He pauses for a moment and his expression suddenly grows more serious.

“The four of us were sitting at the table all together and we were having a really good time. We had just finished to eat, so I stood up and began to collect the dishes. Berta wanted to help me, though obviously I told her not to worry because she was a guest, but she insisted on it being a habit and then Igor told her to sit down and stop thinking about work for once. She glared at him, but then Geralt stood up as well and started helping me and Berta sat down next to Igor and told him something like: _see? That’s what a good husband should do!_ and Geralt almost dropped the dishes. It was adorable.”

Geralt coughs a couple of times and Jaskier stops to chuckle at him.

“We both blushed and I also laughed because I felt a bit embarrassed. Then, we washed the glasses and dishes together and when we were done I went back to the table to sit with our guests again and I heard Geralt’s steps behind me while Berta was telling me about the latest gossip and suddenly… suddenly, I noticed Geralt freezing, staring at us as if it was the first time he saw us.”

Another pause. Geralt’s curiosity has risen now, so he doesn’t have to fake his interest when he asks, “What happened then?”

“Then…” Jaskier takes a deep breath. “Then, Geralt stormed out of the house. I was like frozen for a few seconds and then I ran after him because I didn’t know what else to do.”

He looks down at his own hands and starts fidgeting with his skilled fingers.

“It was already dark but, even thought I don’t have your witcher powers, I managed to spot him running towards the end of this old dock. I tried to call him, but he didn’t stop and I couldn’t reach him because I was still too far behind. So, I could only watch as he _fucking dived_ into the sea.”

Geralt blinks at him. “What?”

“You heard me. I thought he had gone insane. Honestly, what else could I think? People usually don’t run off like that and jump into the fucking sea! You certainly wouldn’t do that, right?”

Geralt shakes his head. He can’t really imagine why he’d do something so impulsive without a good reason.

“And yet, you did! Well, the Geralt from this universe did. Anyway, despite being totally shocked, I managed to reach the edge of the dock, which means that I was _right here_ , waiting for that big dumbass to come out of the water. No offence.”

Geralt barely snorts.

“I waited for at least five minutes and I was starting to get worried, but then you– sorry, I mean, Geralt resurfaced and jumped on the dock. He hadn’t even bothered to take his clothes off, so they were completely soaked as well.”

Jaskier closes his eyes and makes a brief pause. Geralt can sense the sound of the bard’s heartbeat quicken a tiny bit.

“I went to stand right in front of him, fussing over him to see if he was injured or something and I demanded to know what was wrong, what had happened, I begged him to talk to me and then I…”

Jaskier reopens his eyes and turns to stare directly at Geralt.

“I looked up at his face and I saw… I saw that it wasn’t wet just from the seawater. There were tears rolling down his cheeks.”

If anyone else had told him this story, Geralt wouldn’t have believed them in the slightest. But this was Jaskier. Jaskier who looks like he can see right through him with his two beautiful pools of blue in which Geralt could easily drown. No, he can’t be lying.

“Why?” Geralt wonders out loud.

“That’s what I asked you.”

Jaskier doesn’t correct himself this time and Geralt thinks he should do it, because they aren’t talking about _him_. They’re talking about _the other Geralt_. But then, the bard goes on.

“I heard you whisper something. _It’s too much_. That’s what I heard. And I stared at you, trying to understand what you meant, but I couldn’t. I had no idea what to think or say, so I just stared and waited. Then, you looked at me in the eye and said… _It’s too much, Jaskier. Too much happiness. I don’t know what to do with it_.”

There are small tears in the corners of Jaskier’s eyes now, but he’s smiling. Geralt knows it’s a genuine smile.

“You see, Geralt? You weren’t crying because you were sad, or angry, or upset. You were crying because you were happy. And so was I. We were together and we were happy. We still are. And– oh, gods, and then I started crying too and I hugged you and you held me tight, close to you.”

He shakes his head and chuckles a little. “I’m trying to write a song about it, but… even for a bard like me, it’s hard to put such overwhelming emotions into words.” Then, he bites his lower lip, looking as if he wants to say something else.

Geralt decides to encourage him. “What else happened?”

Jaskier meets his eyes again. “You…” he blushes slightly but doesn’t look away. Slowly, the bard’s hand finds its way over Geralt’s and he leans forward, like he’s about to tell a precious secret. “You told me that you loved me.”

Their faces are only a few inches apart now and Geralt’s gaze falls upon those rosy lips that are so tempting and Jaskier is _right there_ and he’s looking at Geralt’s lips as well and if they just tilt their heads a bit–

“No.” Geralt says, despite himself, turning and facing the other way. “You’re not him.”

Next to him, Jaskier – who is not _his_ Jaskier – sighs. “Geralt, I can only imagine how hard this situation must be for you. But, try to think of it as an opportunity. You’ve seen how I feel about you and no matter how many universes exist, there’s no Jaskier that wouldn’t feel the same way.”

“No.” He repeats firmly. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me!”

“I hurt you!” Geralt snaps at him. For the first time, he allows himself to express out loud what has been haunting him since that damned day on the mountain. But the feeling is far from liberating. “I was angry, frustrated and I yelled at you. I said things I didn’t mean. Terrible things. I hurt you.”

He doesn’t know what to expect now that he finally confessed. Will this Jaskier insult him to defend his other self from another universe? He should it.

“And you think the solution now is hurting yourself?”

Geralt looks at him. The bard doesn’t seem to be upset or disappointed. He’s rather… sad? Worried? Worried for _Geralt_?

“If you’re feeling so guilty and you tell it to him he’ll forgive you.” He tries to speak calmly, patiently, as if he’s trying to explain something to a child.

That’s it. He’s still trying to help Geralt. But, _why_. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Jaskier says, with a smirk. “If I were him– wait, I _am_ , so… let’s say if I was in the same situation as my other self from your universe… I know I’d forgive you, but I’d also never let you get away with it easily. You’d have your punishment, that’s for sure. But, I’d be really happy to travel with you again.”

Is he… is that true? Geralt has no reason to believe that Jaskier is lying to him. And maybe, if he says that Geralt still has a chance… maybe he does. Would it be too much to dream about seeing that sweet smile – which this Jaskier is giving him right now – on the face of the Jaskier from his universe at least one more time? It’s indeed a beautiful dream.

“Jaskier!”

Both Geralt and the Jaskier next to him turn around to see Geralt’s other self walking up to them. Bright amber eyes perfectly recognisable in the darkness of the night. He’s also still wearing the white shirt Jaskier has asked him to put on.

“Geralt!” the bard quickly stands up and goes towards him.

As soon as he reaches him, the other witcher wraps an arm around Jaskier’s waist and pulls him closer to his chest. Then, he shoots a brief glance at Geralt. “What did he say to you?” He asks in a low voice, even though he knows full well that his other self can easily hear him.

And Geralt decides he does want to listen and also to watch them.

“What?” The bard sounds a bit confused by the sudden question.

“Did he do something?” The other Geralt insists.

“I… I don’t…” Jaskier has one or two moments of hesitation before realizing something. “Wait. Don’t tell me…” Geralt can practically hear the smirk in his tone now. “Geralt, darling, are you _jealous_ of _yourself_?”

As it could be expected, he receives nothing but a grunt in response.

It’s not hard to picture the smug expression the bard must have. Geralt also hears a soft chuckle from him and then he sees Jaskier raise his hands to cup his other self’s face.

“You know, I have a confession to make. I don’t think that in all the universes that exist there’s a Geralt who I can’t love.”

This time there’s a dangerous growl as a reply.

“Let me finish.” Jaskier admonishes him in a way that makes Geralt think he’s dealing with a stubborn wild animal – or perhaps even a dog – rather than with a witcher. “I don’t know how many Geralts there are but, as I was going to say, the point is… only one is my favourite.”

He whispers the last part directly against the other Geralt’s lips and the witcher makes a much more pleased sound. Then, they meet in a slow, yet passionate kiss. 

Geralt doesn’t avert his gaze. He’s somehow captured by the sight of the bard and his other self’s embrace. Their bodies seem to fit so perfectly together. Will he ever be able to hold Jaskier like that? Even if he manages to go back, will he ever see him again in his own universe?

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears Jaskier’s voice again.

“I’ll wait for you at home.”

It’s a simple sentence. One that Geralt knows is dangerous to want to hear. It implies having a place where you can lower your guard. It implies finding someone who would say it to you. How can a witcher even dream to have something like that? And yet, there he is.

The sound of Jaskier’s steps grows more distant as he goes towards the house. Towards his and the other Geralt’s _home_.

Geralt quietly stands up and takes a step forward, but his other self doesn’t move. As soon as the bard is gone, his expression changes instantly as he watches Geralt and no, it’s not just his face, there’s more (even though he wonders if that is what he usually looks like to most people). Geralt realizes that his other self is scowling at him.

“If you hurt Jaskier, I swear–”

Geralt snorts. The irony. “It’s a bit too late for that.” He says, not without any bitterness. Then, he pauses. Is this finally the moment he will receive his punishment? The other witcher is observing him carefully as if he’s planning to attack. Geralt wouldn’t stop him if he did. Perhaps, this is the reason why he’s here. It seems fitting that he makes himself pay for what he has done.

To his surprise, the other Geralt only tilts his head slightly and then turns around, walking in the same direction as Jaskier did earlier. Geralt doesn’t understand why, but he knows he wants him to follow, so he goes too.

They pass by the house and his other self stops right behind it. There’s a short wooden fence that’s only half finished and a tangle of scattered fishing nets that the witcher gathers and starts to untie them. Geralt also notices a saddle there in the corner. A sudden thought occurs to him.

“Where’s Roach?”

His other self is so focused on his work that he doesn’t even spare him a glance as he answers, “At the village.”

Geralt frowns. “Why?”

“Pregnant.”

“What?”

“Roach’s pregnant.” The other Geralt stops only a moment to look at him and he must see the confusion on his face because he decides to add some sort of explanation, “The owners of the stallion offered to keep her until she gives birth. Their stable is large. Warm. She needs it.”

Geralt… has absolutely no idea how to feel about that. 

Roach. His strong, loyal, beautiful mare. Pregnant. And his other self doesn’t even look perturbed by it. He has already gone back to organizing his stuff. “Will you travel with her again?”

“I don’t know.” He says without pausing.

Again, Geralt suddenly feels a foreign aura around him. The same he felt when they were alone on the dock that morning and which made him almost doubt that they’re actually both Geralt of Rivia. He looks untroubled, relaxed, as if the sea has washed all his worries away the very moment he came to this place. But Geralt knows better. There are things you just can’t escape from.

“And the Child of Surprise?”

“Hm.” That, at least, makes his other self stop and turn towards him. 

Geralt looks for any sign of tension in his posture, or anything that might give away a hint of concern or internal turmoil. He finds none. 

“If I’m really bound to someone, then whoever needs me will find a way to come to me. I’m tired of chasing and running away.”

The answer surprises Geralt and it wakes a burning sensation inside him, like some sort of anger. Perhaps he should have realized this sooner since it’s not the first time he has felt like this today. He’s envious. “You can’t do this forever.”

His other self is still looking at him. “That’s why I’m doing it.”

Geralt wants to scoff. Is he really going to give him one of those _things-don’t-last-so-you-better-enjoy-the-moment_ kind of lesson? Is this his secret? Well, now, that’s disappointing and pretty useless since Geralt doesn’t really need to be told– unless…

_Life is too short. Do what pleases you. While you can._

“You’re doing this… for him.”

There’s a sound which escapes from the other Geralt’s mouth that might be classified as a tired sigh. He also shakes his head, but it’s barely noticeable. “No. Not just him.”

Geralt furrows his brows, confused. At this point, he wonders if he should even be surprised that he can’t really understand what _himself_ is saying. It’s a very different version of him.

He’s still trying to unravel the fishing nets, probably to be ready for tomorrow if he needs to catch some fish to eat. Quietly, he sits down on a wooden box to be more comfortable and exactly when Geralt thinks he’s not going to say anything else, he starts talking again.

“When we arrived here, he couldn’t stop smiling. And singing. Did it all the time. Still does.”

Geralt stands where his other self left him and watches as the other witcher’s expression softens.

“I swore to make him smile every day. I swore to keep him safe. I was an idiot.” 

He’s also smiling now and Geralt’s pretty sure that the fond look on his face is most definitely not caused by the complicated, tangled mess in his hands. 

Golden eyes turn to him. “He told you about that night.”

It’s not a question, so Geralt doesn’t give an answer.

“I didn’t realize until that night that… he’s the one who has been saving me all along.”

There’s a sting in his chest and Geralt averts his gaze. He wants to pretend he doesn’t know what they’re talking about again. This time, though, he _does_ understand. And he knows he can’t hide it. Not to himself. Not anymore.

They didn’t realize until it was too late that Jaskier had started to become an essential part of their life. In his own way, he started to protect them. From the cruelty of the world. From a fate decided by others. He made them see the beautiful things they thought they had forgotten. He made them feel like they were worthy of it.

And how did Geralt repay him?

“I hurt him.” He murmurs. No need to scream when he can hear himself. “Sent him away. I fucked up.”

The other Geralt stands up. The fishing nets are perfectly untangled now and ready to be used.

“You can fix it. Not only for him, but for yourself, too.”

Geralt looks at him. “How?”

“Choose your destiny.”

***

It must be way past midnight now. 

After the rather tiring conversation with… well, himself, Geralt felt like he needed to be alone and to clear his head, so he went for a long walk on the beach. His other self, meanwhile, had gone back to his home. 

While the house was still within earshot, he had heard Jaskier and his other self bickering because the bard wanted to let their ‘guest’ (Geralt snorted when he heard it) sleep on the only bed they had, but the other Geralt argued that it wouldn’t be a problem for him to sleep on the floor. 

Technically, he wasn’t wrong – of course he wasn’t – but the prospect of lying down on a soft bed or at least somewhere warm and comfy was tempting, even though Geralt doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep. 

He finds a spot on some rocks and decides to stop there to meditate. It takes him several attempts to concentrate and empty his mind, but when he finally does he finds a little bit of peace. 

He sits there until his legs begin to protest, then he heads back where he had come from. He doesn’t know how long has passed, but as he walks closer and closer to the house he notices there’s still a tiny light – probably one candle – which is visible from the window of the main room. 

His ears also start to pick up some faint noises, which only grow louder while Geralt approaches silently. 

Then, when he’s right in front of the door, his nose detects something that makes him freeze before he can reach the handle.

_This smell is…_

“Mmh– Geralt, wait–”

Fuck. Was that a _moan_?

“I’ll be quick.”

Geralt hears his husky voice say it. But it’s not _him_.

“You’re never quick.”

There’s a rustling sound, a few weak protests, then a gasp, more moans and curses. Geralt leans slightly – almost unconsciously – against the closed door, careful not to make any noise. He clenches his jaw and fists.

“Oh, _fuck_ – Geralt!”

He’s doing it on purpose. Geralt _knows_ his other self is doing it on purpose. The overwhelming scent of arousal, those sounds of pure pleasure, making Jaskier scream _their_ name like that just because he can and– shit, now Geralt is _hard_.

He’s going to need another long walk after this. 

With some effort, he drags himself away from the house and towards the shore. The sand is soft under his boots and the sea is calm and shining where the moon reflects on the waves. He stops for a moment to look at the old dock. Suddenly, the prospect of jumping into the sea doesn’t sound like a crazy idea.

Eventually, he decides against it and instead goes towards the water and keeps walking until it reaches his waist. It’s freezing, but it’d be worse if he wasn’t a witcher. Besides, it helps him calm his boner.

He closes his eyes and takes a few controlled breaths. It’s dark and quiet, but the moon shines brightly and the sea is gentle where it meets the sand at the shore. Jaskier would probably have something romantic and sappy to say about all of this.

With a sigh, Geralt turns away from the sea and goes back to the beach. He doesn’t have to be a bard to appreciate this beautiful night – though he would enjoy to listen to a lovely, talented voice singing about it.

He sits on the sand and lies down, crossing his arms behind his head and looking at the sky above him. It’s the same as the one in his own universe. Yet, it feels so foreign. He shuts his eyes once again.

_Jaskier…_

Geralt doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep. But he’s tired. So he tries anyway.

***

It’s a high-pitched chirp that wakes him up. Well, not just one but several, actually. 

Now, Geralt isn’t much of an expert, but he’s pretty sure that seagulls don’t sound like that. 

He slowly opens his eyes at the same time his nose smells the moss, rather than the sea breeze, and he realizes that he can’t even hear the sound of waves.

A blast of wind is followed by the rustle of leaves. _Forest_.

Geralt gets up and looks around him.

This is exactly the place where he built a campfire the night before finding himself in another universe.

_Was it all just a dream?_

It felt so real, though. Maybe a sorceress or a mage actually tried to play some mind trick with him. But why would someone do it like that? It wouldn’t make any sense.

His head still feels a bit dizzy when hears a whinny not far from where he stands. Then, he sees her.

Roach trots towards him and greets him with slight, friendly bump against his shoulder.

Geralt smiles. One good thing, at last. “I missed you, too.”

His horse. _His_ Roach is here and is definitely not pregnant. Geralt would like it to stay that way, at least for now. “Best to keep an eye on you from now on.”

She neighs and he pats her on the neck gently, before gathering all his stuff which is fortunately still where he left it. Then, with a firm grip on the saddle and his foot on the stirrup, he mounts his mare.

“Come on, now. We’ve got places to be. People to apologise to.”

He doesn’t know what happened the other night. But it doesn’t matter. He knows what he must do now.

“Let’s choose our destiny.”

_Let’s go find Jaskier._

***

**The End**

**(for now)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it.
> 
> This is how this story ends, though I was thinking about writing a bonus chapter in which I explain what happened to the Geralt & Jaskier from the alternate universe since they arrived to the coast. Idk.
> 
> Anyway, I'm also planning to write more geraskier fanfics (bc I just love them), so you're gonna hear from me again!
> 
> Yours truly,
> 
> candelina


End file.
